In Goin’ to Town (1935), she stars as an erstwhile saloon singer who suddenly inherits a fortune. She only has eyes for Cavenaugh, a proper Englishman who snubs her nouveau riche brashness. Determined to “become a lady if it kills me,” West’s character endeavors to prove she’s a classy dame by “throwing him an opera.” Dalila proves to be the ideal operatic debut role for West, especially since the aria excerpted here, often mistaken by neophytes for a heartfelt love song, is nothing more than an ingenious con job (note how she greedily fondles Samson’s tresses). I have fantasies about inflicting her on a self-righteous tenor who takes himself and his character a mite too seriously (“Good evening, Mr. Vickers, I hope you’re well! Mignon Dunn is under the weather, but I have exciting news for you about a newcomer who is stepping in for her as your costar…”)

Ben Miller agrees:

Mae West surrounded by hunky supers in a slinky gown singing serviceable Saint-Saens in terrible, terrible French. It doesn’t get any better than this. I need “C’mere…sonny” to be a standard spoken interpellation in “Mon coeur.”